


Maybe?

by Khaalysee



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, This is placed somewhere in the future, and he doesn't know how to adapt to the real world again, and somehow ends up in a small village at the other end of the world, and tries to make it up, auba has made some major mistakes in the past, marcos career has just ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 00:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11301549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaalysee/pseuds/Khaalysee
Summary: Marco was trying to find himself. Turns out he wasn't the only one.





	Maybe?

**Author's Note:**

> Just some post-transfer-drama pierreus.

He breathed in. Breathed out. Then he opened his eyes. It was beautiful, simply as that. His eyes traveled over the landscape one last time, amazed by the breathtaking view, tried to remember every little detail, then he got up and stretched his stiff legs. He wanted to be back before sunset. When he started to descend the mountain, his feet found their way on the rocky path easily, step after step. (He had been hiking a lot these days.)

 

Marco pulled at the left strap of his backpack to make it a little bit tighter.

 

He didn't really know how he ended up here.

 

It wasn't like his early career end had been that surprising, not after all his injuries. His doctors had talked to him a lot. Maybe... they could get him fit enough to take another year – maybe even two if he was spared by injuries – but it would always be a risk. His joints, his tendons, his muscles had already suffered to much in the past. Maybe the next accident would be the one to much. He was 33. _Was one year more or less really that important?_ After all his career wasn't that bad. He had played highest level, maybe he didn't win as much as he probably could have but it wasn't like he left with empty hands.

 

Still... what came after that? What did people do, when their lives weren't circling around training, injuries, rehab and the next game? He hadn't known the answer. Still didn't.

 

It seemed like everyone around him had found his purpose, something that gave their live a meaning and he just... couldn't.

 

A Family? Love? Nothing acquirable for him. Scarlett didn't want any kids, she had her horses, she was happy. She had found a purpose. And love... love was nothing more than an illusion. (He had learned that the hard way long ago.)

 

While he had tried to figure out what to do with himself he had vaguely remembered that he used to enjoy traveling a lot. He hadn't originally seen himself going alone but... maybe... maybe talking to himself for a while wouldn't be that useless. Maybe that way he could somehow find out what he actually wanted.

 

And now he was here. A small village in the Vietnamese mountains. He had been to Fiji, to Indonesia, Thailand... and well, Vietnam. He'd thought he might like the landscape. He did. Of course he'd usually dropped of in some fancy hotel, but during one of his trips he had stumbled upon this small village. There weren't many Tourists, just the locals living their daily lives. Most of them were old, the younger ones usually preferred to live in the cities as he had been told. He had found a guesthouse that belonged to an elderly lady who barely spoke three words English. He had booked for a week. Hadn't left since. (He didn't really know what time it was.)

 

Marco knew that this way of living was a luxury only few people could afford. He was grateful for being one of them.

 

Sometimes he wondered what his friends were doing. (He'd gotten himself a new number before he'd left.) He missed them sometimes. He never called though.

 

It took a while to get back to the village. _Lots of time to think._

 

It wasn't like he was completely lost. He liked children a lot, he's probably make a decent youth coach. But... there had to be more. This couldn't be all life had for him. _Right?_

 

The old lady already awaited him in the doorway when he was back, gesturing at him with her hands. Had he forgotten something? Or... would she finally tell him he had to leave?

 

“A man here...”, she started. It was difficult for them to communicate. She barely spoke any English or even German and Marco didn't have a single clue how her language worked.

She made more gestures, said a few words that he didn't understand. “Find you.”

 

Only as a slim and tall figure appeared behind her Marco finally got what she tried to tell him. He paled.

 

“ _Auba.”_

 

(The old lady looked extremely pleased.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Marco had thought about making a scene. Screaming at him, maybe slapping him in the face before telling him to fuck off. He had done nothing of that of course. (Maybe he'd do it later, who knows.)

 

“Shouldn't you be in a training camp or something?” They had made it themselves comfortable on a bench under a group of trees. Marco couldn't look at Auba – or else he'd known that the Gabonese just stared at the ground helplessly.

 

“Season started two weeks ago.” Auba said quietly.

 

“Oh.” Had he already been here _that_ long?

 

“How did you find me?” Marco hadn't told anyone where he was, not even his family. Except... “Scarlett snitched me.”

 

“Don't be mad at her. I... I practically begged her to tell me.”

 

“Hm.”

 

“Then I drove from hotel to hotel to find out were you stayed. It was like looking for the needle in a haystack but...” He grew quiet again.

 

 

 

“You left.” That wasn't all Marco had to say. It was all he wanted to say though.

 

_You left me. Our friends, the club. We gave a promise to each other and you broke it, just for the money and the glory. We had plans, we wanted to conquer the world together and you just... left._

 

“I know. And I'm sorry, I made a mistake.”

 

“That's supposed to make me feel better? After... what? Four years? Five years?” Thinking about it, throwing a temper tantrum maybe wasn't the worst idea... “I loved you, for fuck's sake!”

 

“I loved you too.” Aubas voice was barely more than a whisper. “I still love you.”

 

“Well, you have quite a strange way to express your feelings.”

 

For years Marco had thought of all the things he'd tell Auba, had imagined how screaming all the things that had bubbled up inside him at his face would make him feel better. Only... it didn't. After all this time it was just tiring.

 

“You know I... I always imagined we could still play together. That despite all we'd end our careers together, at the same club.” Auba sighted. “Then I suddenly read about your career being over and...”

 

“Oh, so it's my fault now that your romantic little illusion couldn't be fulfilled?”

 

“No! That's not what I meant, I just... I think I realized something.”

 

Despite all his doubts, despite his anger Marco stayed silent. He let him talk. Because despite everything there was still this tiny little spark called hope somewhere deep inside him. (It just hurt a lot most of the time.)

 

“I used to think I could have both at the same time. A fulfilling love life and everything I wanted in football. I didn't realize that if I wanted to be with you I had to assign priorities.”

 

“But you did.”, Marco said quietly. “You chose your career. You...” . _..left. (Like everyone else before him.)_

 

“I wasn't aware of that back then.” When Marco finally dared to look at him, he stared directly into his deep brown eyes. (He had drowned in these eyes so often...) “But I am aware now. I know I lived in a bubble, I made a mistake, the biggest mistake of my life probably, but... can you... maybe... maybe give me another chance?”

 

When Marco didn't answer Aubas head and shoulders slumped down. “Okay.”, he murmured. “I guess I deserve this.” He got up slowly, didn't even dare to look at Marco anymore.

 

The blonde cleared his throat. “What will you do now?”

 

“I... don't know. Find a place to sleep, fly back and then... I don't know.” His voice sounded broken.

 

“Okay...”

 

And suddenly the realization hit him. Auba had searched for him for what must have been weeks. He shouldn't have been able to find him _and still did_. He had thrown his football career out of the window to have the time to find him, despite the low chance for success. _He had chosen him over football._

 

“Wait.”

 

Auba, who had already started to walk away stopped hesitantly.

 

Maybe... maybe?

 

“Stay.”

 

 

 


End file.
